


Come Back Down to Earth

by Bad_Wolf, sugarsugarskull



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Future, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:38:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Wolf/pseuds/Bad_Wolf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarsugarskull/pseuds/sugarsugarskull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The angels are gearing up for another war and they recruit Dean again, almost 800 years in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The angels reincarnate Dean as they gear up for another war

The Roadhouse swam in darkening shades of brown and the smell of old beer and vomit faded briefly, giving way to the overpowering aroma of earth and water. “Whoa buddy!” Ash grabbed Dean’s arm, steadying him, “The beer hit ya’ too hard?” Dean could tell Ash was grinning. “Get off me,” Dean chuckled and straightened, “You sure you didn’t spike me with some of your mojo?” Flicking the brim of his cap upwards, Ash squinted at Dean, actually looking worried. “Hey now, you’re looking pale. Is your head playin’ tricks again?”

“I just need a walk. There’s dinner tonight at Sam’s if you swing by later. Could you open a door for me?” Dean left his lukewarm beer and waited expectantly in front of the main door. There was a moment of hesitation from Ash, “You sure-?”

“C’mon, Ash,” groused Dean, “I’ve had a lot worse.” The memories from their last battle continued to haunt both Winchester brothers through the centuries spent in heaven. And though Dean had told his family about the visions, he’d kept the nightmares to himself. There was no escaping the inside of your head, especially not here. Ash took one last chance at helping his friend. “I still think-“ began shouting Ash as Dean threw the door open, “That you need help! You don’t want to go loco. You owe it to-“ But Dean never heard who he owed as he stepped from the dark Roadhouse, across the raging Void, and into the driveway of a one story house, painted a dark green.

He stepped over the white picket fence, Dean snorted, white picket, of all the ironies- “Uncle Dean!” A fifteen year old girl leapt off the porch and ran out to hug him. “Hey kiddo!” It always amazed him just how much Sarah looked like Sam. The same eyes, the same nose. “Where’s your dad?”

Sarah grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him towards the house, “He said he was gonna go visit Grandpa Bobby. Did he bang up Baby again?” Dean scowled, remembering Sam’s stupid stunt with the Impala. “Daddy though it was funny, he still thinks it’s funny,” Sarah scowled too, remembering how the Impala had arrived at Grandpa Bobby’s, smoking and making an awful screech. Uncle Dean had almost leapt at Daddy’s throat, but Grandpa Bobby had prevented a brawl.

Sarah sat Uncle Dean in the kitchen and asked, “Apple or rhubarb?” Dean gave her a sheepish smile, “How about both?” Sarah poured him a giant glass of milk too. They dug into the slices of pie before Sarah dared ask, “So how’s Death?” Dean looked at her over the rim of the glass of milk. “What have I told you ‘bout even saying that name?” Grumbling, Sarah pushed her plate away. “Well, how is you-know-who?” Dean wiped the corner of his mouth with a thumb, “Alright, Hermione. If you have’ta know, everything’s been running smooth. I haven’t been bothered in what, maybe a hundred years? It’s hard to keep track sometimes.” Sarah nodded, “Especially when you keep changing ages according to your host’s heaven.” Dean grinned and admired his own leather jacket, courtesy of the Roadhouse whenever he visited.

The purring rumble of his Baby wound its way from the open front door to the kitchen, beckoning. Sarah ran out of the door, Dean restraining himself from doing the same thing followed her out at a calmer pace. “Dean!” Sam released his daughter from a bear hug and gave his brother another giant hug. “So what did you want to talk about?” Dean ignored Sam and went to stick his head into the Impala, “It smells like dog in here, Sammy.”

Sam side-eyed Sarah, “Sweetheart, why don’t you go get your mom and Bobby for dinner? Swing by the Roadhouse and see if the Harvelle’s and Ash are coming.” Sarah scowled, “If you wanted me out of the way just say so, Daddy.” Sam kissed her forehead, “Go on, we’ll see you in a bit.” Sarah ran her hands across Baby’s front fender before jumping over the white-picket and disappearing into the blue.

Sam watched his daughter jump from his heaven before turning to Dean. “So what’s wrong?” Dean stalled for a moment, sliding into the front seat and running his hands across the steering wheel slowly, “ You remember the vision of fire?-“

“Yeah?”

“It’s turned to dirt now. I feel like I’m trapped underground. I mean- I’m not complainin’. It’s better than feeling like I’m burning alive…” Sam leaned against the Impala, his face scrunched in thought, “I told Bobby and Garth about your visions, they both said they’ve heard of people who get glimpses of the Earth. Maybe that’s what you’re experiencing?” Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes, “I don’t know man…lately, I’ve been thinking. What if these aren’t visions?”

Sam scoffed, “What else would they be? The angels aren’t perfect, they let things through. And if anyone was going to be susceptible, it would be you.” He tossed the keys to Dean. “You need to find Cas and ask him.”

Dean snorted, “Yeah sure. Let me just pray Cas over here. Because that’s worked in the past.” He angrily punched the steering wheel then immediately regretted it. “Sorry, Baby,” he muttered to the car. Sam didn’t see the ridiculous exchange as he fished a small pouch from his pocket and considered its contents. Some tracing dust cooked by Ash, a binding spell carved into the bones of a calf sacrificed by Moses (procured by Bobby), and a single pin feather from the trunk of the Impala. Sam patted her, “Good car.” He tossed the decrepit looking bag into Dean’s lap. His brother stared at it suspiciously. “Don’t open it. You’ll let out the tracing dust.” Dean held it out in front of him, “What’s it do?”

“It’ll lead you to Cas. Before humans had cars, people would tie it around the neck of their horse…” Dean grinned, “I have something much better than a dumb mutt.” Sam opened his mouth to say that horses weren’t mutts but he just shook his head, sure Dean was baiting him. Dean looped the bag around the rearview mirror of the Impala and let the motor roar into life. He felt instantly soothed. Sam grinned and made to get into the passenger’s seat, “I don’t think so Sam. You have to play host for everyone tonight, Jess would kill me if I distract you tonight of all nights.” Sam thought Dean was avoiding meeting his eyes, “You sure Dean? It might take longer than you think. Impala or not. We don’t even know if…-“

“If what?” Dean’s voice dropped in pitch, challenging whatever doubt Sam had about the plan they’d hatched over twenty years ago.

Sam shrugged, helpless, “Cas might not want you to find him. Or the archangels might not want you to find him. We don’t know what’s going on. It’s been almost a thousand Earth years since we last stepped foot in a skeezy motel or got food poisoning from a roadside diner. It’s been a thousand years since we’ve had someone treating us like puppets and yanking us by the nape. Dean, we’re sticking our noses into the flames and we don’t even know what’s going on. It’s specifically what Cas told us not to do before he left. Do you seriously want to get mixed up with angels again? Do you want to risk it?”

Dean adjusted the radio, it only ever played his favorites now, “ I’m worried; I don’t think those douchebags with wings would forgive a rebellion as easily as they promised us. Especially not with the amount blood on Cas’ hands. Look at what happened to the first angel to rebel.”

Dean intended for it to hurt and he saw his comment hit the mark when Sam flinched and stepped away from the Impala. “I’m not saying that everything’s completely fine. I know these visions freak you out, but poking a dragon in the eye isn’t going to fix anything-“

Dean shifted the Impala to reverse and the car roared happily, biting to leave this smothering white-picket fence and tear through heaven’s many highways. “We’ve poked dragons before, Sam. They weren’t such a big deal. I’ll see you for dinner?” He waited for Sam’s resigned nod of acceptance, “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” and the Impala disappeared, already half a galaxy away, tearing through highways and back country roads. Different heavens appeared and disappeared, their roads and alleyways the road the Impala used. She followed a glowing wire of pure light across heaven, tracking down the name that the pouch around her neck was incessantly whispering. Dean was humming an old lullaby as the Impala settled into a comfortable speed, eager to see more roads, not eager to reach the destination, but she would, eventually. But that was alright, Dean wasn’t one to remain in one place for long, not even here, in heaven.

~~~~~~~

“This car smells like dog.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” Dean swerved out of a mountainous road, past a lakeside driveway before the Impala landed in a city with wide but dirty streets. Her wheels squealed in protest at the angle of their turn. Dean straightened his Baby out, mentally apologizing. “You can’t just apparate without giving a warning! I could’ve crashed!” Dean angrily berated Death who gazed at him with a look that was a cross between amusement and disinterest. “I brought you a white castle burger. Had to travel back to 2231 for it. That was the year before the last White Castle closed. Shame.” Death held out an oily white paper bag as Dean eased the Impala into a street lot. Death pulled out some fries and handed the bag to Dean. And there was indeed a burger along with a small chocolate shake and another small box of fries tucked next to the burger. Dean threw the bag out of the window and Death curled his lip. “What, White Castle not kosher enough?”

This was enough, “Whatever’s going on. Messing with my head. It needs to stop.”

Death dropped the rest of his fries out of the window as well, “Drive. We’ll avoid them a bit longer that way.” Holding in choice words for Death, Dean roared out of the lot and into a desert highway, the sun barely cresting over some mountains, winter air fogging the windshield. “I failed you Dean, and….I apologize for what is about to happen. For lack of a better term-“

“Cut the crap, what’s going on?”

Death pursed his lips, “ I –“ With a strangled, wheezing rasp, Death clutched his cane and was gone. The faint smell of burger the only evidence that he’d been there.

“What the-?” Dean kept the Impala on the road with difficulty as a strong wind buffeted them. Then the visions started again. His mouth was filled with dirt and the steering wheel crumbled into clods of mud. Dean tried to curse, panicking as the felt himself fly into darkness.

He took in a breath of air and coughed, managing to breathe in a clump of moldy dust. Where was his Baby? Where was he? He tried another breath of air, feeling only a searing pain in his chest. Dean clawed at his mouth; spitting out a worm, he gagged and rolled onto his side. “I crashed, that’s the only explanation,” thought Dean, trying not to panic. But how does someone crash the soul of a car while in heaven? He tried shaking his head and felt things crawling down his neck. He reached out, trying to sit up. “Did I roll the Impala into a trench?” that was the only logical explanation. The dirt seemed to be looser in a certain direction and he dug that way. He shoved centipedes and fat worms to the side as he dug his way out.

That stopped him cold.

“Out?” Dean felt a cold dread, as hard as a mountain, lodge in his chest, “No,” he prayed, “No. Please. No no no.” But as he continued to dig, his certainty grew. At one point, Dean’s exhaustion was so heavy he stopped to rest. Awkwardly perched on a rock, Dean clutched at his ribs, “Sam, if you can hear me. I think I messed up. You were right. I should’ve kept my nose clean. Should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry.”

Dean continued scrabbling at the dirt, he punched upwards and felt cold, wet air greet his skin. Someone grabbed his hand and dug to his wrist. They got a better grip on his arm and tugged. Dean was too tired to do much more than allow this person to lift him. Coughing and wheezing he broke the surface, reaching blindly for whoever was helping him. Dean found an arm and used that for leverage. He stumbled to his knees.

“Hello Dean,” Cas stood there, wearing a shortened form of his trench coat and a Bluetooth headset. Cas helped Dean to his feet, the angel noted the lack of scars and the old beat-up jacket Dean inherited from his father. There was no way of knowing how Dean would react, that was the worst thing, decided Cas, waiting for his best friend to resurface.

“You dumb sonofabitch, said Dean wearily before wrapping Cas into a tight hug. The angel didn’t lift his arms, simply dug his chin into Dean’s shoulder and curled his shoulders in relief. “I’m sorry Dean,” said Cas in his familiar gravelly voice, “I’m so sorry.” They broke apart; Dean looked at the sky, clouds covered the stars. Dean didn’t want to be here again, he already felt tired, knowing that whatever was coming would tear him apart. “Don’t worry about it, Cas. I’m okay, buddy. It’s gonna be okay.”


	2. Two

It took Dean exactly six minutes to reorient himself. There was a cemetery, there was a grave, he ran his hand across the name, his name, there was a man standing far away, trench coat flapping in the breeze. All Dean's brain could think was, "Sonofabitch." So he said it out loud, "Sonofabitch!" The man approached him slowly, "Yes. That was my first reaction as well. But- It did not do me- or you- any good. Here we are, now get up, we have to move." Dean dusted off his clothes, most of it was rags, he hoped his ass wasn't hanging out of the back of the ratty jeans. "Why? Some demon or hell hound on your ass?" His emotions were starting to kick in, being revived was not fun, it was like surfacing from being comatose for a long time, everything came back slowly and in pieces. He balled a fist and landed a square right hook on the man's cheek. The man in the trench coat turned his head but did not otherwise react to the assault, he bowed his head and started walking away. "I forgot how goddamn... sturdy you are," Dean rubbed his knuckles, trying not to feel stupid over using the word sturdy to describe an angel of the lord. "At least throw me a bone, Cas! What the hell's going on??" The angel, Cas turned his head briefly, "Nothing is currently pursuing us but this is a popular resting place and we were standing over your grave with you fresh from it. I thought it would be better to move." They entered the parking lot and to Dean's dismay, the angel kept walking. Dean wanted to sit down and sleep, his legs felt shaky just from walking for a couple of minutes and his hand still hurt. "Where are we going? Why do we have to walk? Can't you just zap us to a motel and.... and...." Dean stopped in his tracks, his stomach turning into knots, it couldn't be. The angel turned, his mouth pulling to the left in a smile, his blue eyes crinkled into half moons, "Surprise. I pulled some strings. She's the original, not a copy. This was the one your father bought. It- It took a long time to get all the scrap together and get her back to working order." Dean walked past Cas and ran a hand over the hot metal of the impala. His eyes stung from the dirt and his stomach was knotting itself further into knots from not having eaten in so long, definitely not because his baby stood there, gleaming and looking pleased with herself. "I even stuck some of the small bricks-legos- into the vents and I found a small plastic soldier I remember seeing in the cigarette ash container. Are you happy?" Cas leaned forward slightly, trying to see if Dean was at least marginally less unhappy. "It makes up for dragging me up here again, thanks Cas. I- I know you wouldn't have pulled me out if it was up to you." Cas stuck his hands in the coat pocket and handed the keys over, "I filled her with gas at a gas station, it only cost a thousand dollars." But Dean wasn't listening, he was sliding behind the wheel, the door slid shut soundlessly, it no longer creaked and shrieked. A year on the road and his baby would soon be talking to him again. Cas appeared in the back seat, "Are you ready? I have some food ready at the hotel where we are all staying." 

"Jump up front, Cas, it's weird you being back there since..." Dean swallowed, "You aren't planning on bringing Sam out are you?" Cas appeared in the front seat when Dean blinked, the faint rustle of feathers at the back of his mind. "No. We can't risk it. It was either you or Sam. I told them that Sam was your Achilles heel, you would die for him, and have, on many occasions. It was easy for them to find another hunter twice as smart-" Dean pulled out of the drive way, "Whoa whoa whoa! There is no one, and I mean no one, smarter than Sam." Cas tipped his head to the side, "We resurrected Charlie Bradbury She is Sam's equal in intelligence though she-" Dean slammed on the breaks and Castiel smacked his head on the dashboard. "You mind running that by me again?" growled Dean and the impala roared unhappily. Cas rubbed his head and muttered to himself, "I do not remember there being so much pain when Jimmy was still alive." 

"Cas!"

"Dean, please keep driving, we do not want to arouse suspicion."

Glaring straight ahead, Dean sealed his lips and the impala leapt forward, purring angrily.

The hotel Cas mentioned earlier was a swanky place, the parking lot full of both sleek unfamiliar cars and cars that Dean could name by year and model. He parked the Impala next to a couple of cars with short doors, "This place is nice." Cas appeared at the doors with a puff of air, "Yes. We have the power of heaven behind us, Dean. Come inside, the debriefing will be soon and you look... like hell," Cas smirked.


End file.
